Bruises
by aDreamerEnigmatic
Summary: Italy has been in a fight but doesn't want to tell Germany about it while Spain faces a similar situation with Romano. It doesn't take them long to figure out that the Italians have been fighting with each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimers: **I feel that I should note, due to copyright law and such, that I did not create these characters.

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Bruises

Italy was in tears. He called Prussia for help because while he needed Germany's attention and affection he didn't want to alarm him. He needed to be calm to tell Germany the latest trouble he had gotten himself into. Prussia assured him that he would let him in; Germany was busy with paperwork and had a meeting with his boss. He could come, have a bath and settle down before he had to tell his lover his story.

True to his word, Prussia opened the door before Italy even had to knock. Before greetings could be exchanged, Prussia leaned in and whispered in the Italian's ear, "Mein bruder has come back earlier than I expected but if you're quiet you might get upstairs before he notices." Italy paled a little. There was no way he was getting upstairs. "Oh, don't look so sick about it. Trust the awesome me a little more! Hey, what happened to your face?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Let me in," Italy whined. Prussia stepped back to give Italy room to enter the house and after closing the door as quietly as possible he took up a lookout position by the stairs. They could hear Germany humming in the kitchen. Italy tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs pausing just long enough to thank Prussia for his help. "Ja, ja. Just go!" he said gruffly, embarrassed by the gratitude in the smaller nation's voice. "I'll go get something to distract him with for a few minutes. Go get clean." Neither of them noticed that Germany had stopped humming. He came around the corner just in time to see Italy disappearing up the steps and Prussia turning to go down the adjoining staircase to his basement apartment. "Stop. Both of you." Prussia turned with his best "I'm innocent and ignorant of the situation" face painted on. Italy brushed his hair forward a little hoping it would cover at least part of his injured face and retreated halfway down the stairs with his "What could I have possibly done wrong" face aimed at Germany. The blond nation saw right through both of them. "What are you two up to?"

"Nothing!" they both answered too quickly.

"I thought you knew he was coming," Prussia added, earning a glare from Italy at his betrayal.

"I just wanted-" Italy began without looking up. Before he could continue, Germany's face changed from mild amusement at catching his lover and his brother attempting to cover a lie (Prussia was usually so much better at it) to deep concern as he looked at Italy.

"Feliciano. Have you been in a fight?"

Italy looked up from the step he was inspecting with eyes wide. "NO! I, uh…well," He stammered as he searched desperately for the words to tell Germany what had happened.

"Feli," Germany said quietly as he ascended the stairs to stand just below Italy. Prussia took that opportunity to quickly retreat down the stairs. Germany reached out to take Italy's hands and coaxed him back down the stairs and into the living room. He held Italy close as they sat on the loveseat and rubbed his back, which caused Italy to whimper. "Feli," he said again, "please tell me. Let me see," he said and put a gentle hand under Italy's chin and lifted his face. He brushed Italy's hair back into place with the other hand. Germany gasped as he took in the damage. Italy's lip was split and there was dried blood around his nose that trailed down onto his shirt. A dark bruise dominated the left side of Italy's face, making it difficult for him to open his eye. He began to cry and covered his face with his hands. Noticing bruises protruding from under his sleeves, Germany gently removed Italy's hands and kissed his unbruised cheek. "Are there more?" he asked remembering the way Italy had whimpered when he rubbed his back. Italy nodded and attempted to control the rush of tears. "Let me see, then," Germany reached for the buttons on Italy's shirt but Italy stopped him, shaking his head and pushing away the gentle hands.

"No, don't. I don't want you to be more upset. That's why I was sneaking upstairs. I wanted to clean up before you saw me. I… it probably looks bad. It feels bad." More tears. Germany scooped him up and headed for the stairs. "What," Italy began, "what are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up."

Italy buried his face in Germany's shoulder and sobbed.

Germany took Italy upstairs through his bedroom into the adjoining bathroom. "Let me see," he said again quietly as he sat Italy on the edge of the tub. He gingerly rubbed Italy's arm and patted his hair while Italy continued to sob into his shirt. Eventually the tears slowed and Italy granted permission to remove his shirt. As Germany undid the buttons, more abrasions became visible. "Is that a bite mark?" Germany asked, incredulous, as he slid the shirt away from Italy's usually smooth skin. Italy nodded as the tears threatened to become another flood. Germany ran his hand lightly over the mark as anger began to rise in his belly. Another bruise on his hip disappeared under the waistband of his pants. Helping Italy to stand, Germany turned him around. A huge bruise stretched from the middle of his back up to his left shoulder, the skin broken in at least two places. "Oh, Feli," Germany whispered, warring emotions making his voice thick and unusual as he reached for Italy. He stopped just short of placing his hand on the small Italian's back for fear he would aggravate his injuries. Italy glanced over his shoulder and catching Germany's shocked expression began to cry again. "I… I didn't want to worry you Ludwig, but…but… I need you. I'm so, so sorry!"

Germany gathered him into another embrace shushing him and murmuring words of encouragement and assurance. "Feliciano, you know you should come to me when you need anything. I will always protect you. Are you going to tell me how this happened?" Germany's questions sent another round of sobs through Italy and he was verging on hysterics.

"I want… I… want to," Italy's voice was broken by his sobs. "But not right now. Not now, please." He looked at Germany pleadingly.

"Ok, ok. It's alright. I'm sorry. Tell me when you're ready." He began to help Italy undress the rest of the way, but the auburn haired nation stopped him.

"I can do it. Will you run the bath?" Germany nodded and kissed the top of Italy's hair, which seemed the only place without injury. He turned on the taps and tested the temperature with the back of his hand. When it felt right he stuck the plug in the drain and turned to face the now fully undressed Italy. The bruise that had disappeared into his pants covered nearly the whole hip. Both of his knees were purple. He helped Italy into the tub and gathered the soiled clothing from the floor. With a promise to return shortly he left the bathroom. Italy sighed and leaned his head against the edge of the tub replaying the events from earlier, trying his best to figure out when things had gone so terribly wrong. Romano had been so angry with him…

As Germany was fixing the settings on the washing machine he heard the phone ring twice, then go silent as Prussia answered. "Hey West!" he hollered unceremoniously through the house. "Get the telephone!" Germany pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Prussia knew the conventions of good manners but refused to put most of them into daily practice. He turned on the washing machine and, hoping it was something that could be dealt with quickly, made his way to the kitchen to get the phone.

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**Notes: **I'm new here and still figuring out all the formatting goodies :). I have updated the chapter to fix continuity and add this note. Several beautiful people have sent me reviews; thank you for your kind words! I am working on the next chapter and will add it as soon as it's finished.


	2. Chapter 2

Spain looked up suddenly from the tomatoes he was inspecting when he heard the door slam. He was surprised to see Romano storming out into the sunny garden behind his house. "Hey, Lovi, back so soon?" he asked in the general direction of the Italian as he turned his attention back to the tomato plants. He looked up again when he didn't get an answer. The door slammed again and he knew Romano had gone back inside. He sighed heavily, wondering what could have the Italian in such a bad mood. When most people looked at Romano they saw a grumpy, ungrateful man but Spain always saw through the act. This time though, the irritability was genuine. He called out for Romano as he entered the house and, unsurprisingly, got no answer. He wandered through the rooms and, not finding him in the kitchen where he expected, headed for the bedroom. Sure enough, the bedroom door was locked. Spain knocked gently. "Lovino, let me in," he asked softly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt like he should be upset that he had been locked out of his own bedroom but he pushed the stray thought aside.

"No! Go away, jerk! I'm tired from the trip and want to take a nap so leave me alone!" Romano yelled. Spain didn't buy it, especially when his voice broke in the middle of the sentence.

Spain was wracking his brain trying to think of ways to convince the Italian to open the door. "You were gone half a day and are tired enough for a nap!? Maybe you want a back rub to help you relax?"

"No, I don't want a back rub. Just go away!" There was less force behind this demand but the door remained locked.

"I'm going to get the key for the door," Spain announced, already tired of coercion techniques that weren't going to work anyway.

"No! Don't come in here!"

"This is my bedroom, in case you forgot, and if you don't let me in I'm getting the key. I'm coming in one way or another."

Romano let loose a long string of profanity all directed at the Spaniard as he stomped toward the door and unlocked it. "It's unlocked. Happy now?"

"Exceedingly," Spain replied as he opened the door and entered the dark room. Romano had pulled the drapes so that only a sliver of light got in at the window and he had the lights off. "What are you doing in the dark?" he asked. The Italian stood in the middle of the large room with his back to the door.

"I told you," Romano retorted angrily, "I was trying to take a nap."

"So why aren't you in the bed?"

"Because I had to unlock your stupid door, stupid."

_Hmm,_ Spain thought, _just mild insults. He must really be trying to hold it together. _Sure enough, he heard a soft sob and took in the outline of Romano's slumped shoulders in the half light. "Lovi. What's the matter?"

Romano choked back another sob as he tried to answer normally. Spain turned on the bedside lamp and Romano flinched as he realized he didn't have anywhere to hide. Spain gasped as he took in Romano's injured face. Both his eyes were blacked and his lip was still bleeding. "Don't ask me about it, I'm not telling you anything," Romano spat through his tears as Spain stepped in for a closer look.

"How did this happen?" Spain asked as he put his hands on Romano's shoulders. Romano hissed in pain.

"I said I'm not talking about it" Romano pushed the hands away. "Look, I'm going to change my clothes. You can stay or don't," he said as he pulled his shirt gingerly over his head and walked toward the bathroom. Spain gasped again and covered his mouth. He grabbed what appeared to be an uninjured wrist and surprisingly, Romano let himself be turned around. His left shoulder and his chest were red and appeared to have been burned and bruises peppered his chest. One on his ribcage looked like it could be a shoe print. Seeing the emotion in Spain's eyes sent Romano over the edge. He began to sob in earnest as he put his head against Spain's collarbone. Spain wrapped his arms lightly around his shoulders.

"Are you going to tell me after all?"

"No…yes…just… not now," Romano spoke through his tears. "I feel like crap," he added as he closed his eyes. He had been so angry and had lashed out. Apparently his brother had paid attention to all that training Germany had him do all those years ago.

"Let me help you clean up," Spain kissed the top of Romano's hair and led him toward the bathroom. Romano grumbled halfhearted dissent and complied as Spain instructed him to finish undressing. He gasped again when he saw the dark marks that covered the back of Romano's leg and right side of his rear. After preparing the water, he helped Romano into the tub and kissed his hair again, receiving a rare look of gratitude in return. "I'm going to find something for you to wear when you get out of there," Spain said, gathering up the ruined clothes that Romano had shed. As he deposited the clothes in the laundry room he wondered if Romano had gotten beaten up on the way home or if someone had attacked the Italian brothers' house while they were there. He had a sneaking suspicion that Romano had been fighting with his brother. Otherwise he would have come back screeching that so-and-so had dared to attack him and what was Spain going to do about it? He decided to make a phone call to confirm his suspicions.

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**Note: **This one was shorter than the last but I felt it needed to end where it does... Don't worry, the next installment is already underway! Again, thank you all for the wonderful comments and I'm actually really excited that so many of you seem to be interested in where this goes. Y'all really make my day :).


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